FARBEN MARKIEREN DICH | dual joiners

[CELANDINEPAW]

"Come on, Grave! We're almost there!" Sunshine voice, fraught in sprightly nature, peeked through the tangerine and ochre tones of the dawn. The barncat made sure to watch how the sun swam along black sea, waiting until she found it appropriate to brave the lands beyond the barn. The molly had always been much more of a morning bird herself, and she usually woke as the dunnocks and blackcaps did too. Of course, she made sure to drag her dearest friend Grave alongside her. Youthful steps took her much farther than the tomcat who followed like a wispy shadow, though they took care to not overtake the other so much so that she completely left him behind. Morning's fog still proved hazy, though it let up somewhat now that the sun had reached through the murk and the mist. Whiskers twitched as they bathed in the brume, persisting even as leafbare had come and gone, as though it were the last tendrils of winter's desperation. Behind earthbound and incorporeal clouds stood the two felines, approaching Windclan's border.

Celandine suddenly stopped once an unfamiliar scent had been strewn along an invisible boundary of the idyllic moors. Though, she certainly recognized it as the strange cats of feral field and agrestal nature. The molly had been a little too young to remember why so many cats had suddenly come to her and her kin. The girl hated it at first, but Hay - ever the wise and wistful father - told her that she must help those in need. And that she did, carrying pungent herb and plump prey to the wounded and the weary. She remembered how eyes, once glazed over in the worries of war, lit up at her aid. And now, she stood at the door of their home. Celandine had never ventured this far from the barn. There was no turning back now, though - she wished to join Windclan, and once she had her heart set on something, she never let up. The golden spotted tabby had grown used to the pastoral lifestyle in her short life, but there was no rooster-red barn like a beacon or wood-built fence like a safeguard. There were only short spurts of sedges and whinberry bushes here, unprotected and naked for the wind and the wilds. "Hi! Uh, Windclan, it was? Uhh..." Suntouched words now fell flat - they'd certainly never done this before. Was there some sort of custom she must follow? No, she doubted they would turn her away so quickly, as she recalled them being quite friendly at the very least. "We're here to join! My name is Celandine and his name is Grave! We helped you at the barn back when you had that scuffle, remember?"

( Please wait for @GRAVE to post :3 )​

 

[SCORPIONBACK]

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming.." The tall, scarred wispy shadow known as Grave sauntered behind the golden spotted tabby. The rogue watches as the sun bleed through the darken night, washing the darkness away with it's bright light of yellows and orange. Being dragged from his resting place from the corners of the brightly colored barn, by a whirlwind of yapping yellow. Narrowed dark amber eyes, slides across the dawn touched moorlands, with a sight frown placed on his face. The sun sweeped through the morning mist, tragic for him really.

Grave stopped next to his companion then lifted his head up, neck craning up to his full height. He remembered this clans war with one of their own, he watched over how Celandine lend a helping hand to the clanners from the shadows of the barn. The spotted furred kid needed adult supervision, it was of course him naturally. Curling his lip up, in distaste at the memory plus at the foul scent of the feral cats border scent. Disgusting. He doesn't know how in Celandine's little head, that joining these ferals clan colony or whatever was a good idea. "Hm." He studied familiar but now bright rolling hills of the moorlands, sweeping his darkened tail tip across the ground. Angling a tufted ear, towards the spotted tabby beside him hearing the young molly's words.

CAUSE YOU'RE A NUTCASE ( ♰ ) YOU'RE A FILTHY PIECE OF TRASH

• ooc: -

• 

• ( they come in creepin' ) GRAVE : rogue
  — afab, trans masc ; HE / HIM ; currently 19 moons
  — pansexual / single / not actively looking / open to crushes & romance
  — a tall, lanky shorthaired dull black feline with narrow dark amber eyes.
  — action , thoughts , "Speech, 9a3b3b"
  — smells of raspberries and midnight rain
  
  -tags / @ on discord for plots
  - penned by calzone
  

 

[SUNNVAR]

He remembers each face from the barn in varying levels of light. Some are shrouded in darkness, offering and asking little of WindClan. Other's, like Celandine's, are bright as her heart. They would not have made it through the loyalists' rage without the help of those that had put everything aside and helped the interlopers. There had been little he could offer at the time. Defense hardly seemed a fair repayment. Not when it was their own troubles that put them in danger to begin. So instead he had offered what he could, when they returned to the moors: should WindClan succeed in this, and drive the loyalists from their home, the barncats would find nothing but peace with WindClan throughout his leadership. And those that sought purpose here would find it, unquestioningly.

Well– at least no more than what he would normally offer.

His patrol is a quiet one. He finds himself along this border more often than not as of late, treading the paths towards the horseplace yet rarely venturing that far. Now that leafbare has passed, the twolegs seem to flourish. Their horses have come out again, and so have the dogs. They are lazy beasts for the most part, not like the violence he had seen in the distance far too recently. Even though their territory is once more in the clear, Sunstar cannot help his wariness. The sound of a shouted voice, young as hers may be, causes the leader the stiffen. His pace quickens before he recognizes the ease in her words. Not a voice of trouble.

"Celandine," he repeats, surprise and warmth like a dusting of sunshine. Grave he does not greet so readily. He recalls only the tom's care for Celandine. Not a terrible thing, yet certainly not what WindClan had needed at the time. There is no irritation in his eyes, at the least. "Both of you?" His gaze flickers between the two of them, lingering longer on the dark tom who seemed all too unimpressed with the world surrounding him. Then, Sunstar glances to the warriors on his patrol. "Have you thought of the promise you are making? To be a warrior of WindClan above all else?"

⋆°•☁︎ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃  ╱╱ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝗕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 〚 02.11.2024 〛 𖤓

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTAR. LEADER OF WINDCLAN. ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, MOUNTAIN CATS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING RIVEPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ A LARGE, FRESHLY SCARRED CHOCOLATE AND WHITE ROSETTE TABBY TOM WITH SEAGLASS BLUE EYES

• "speech"

​

 

[RATTLEHEART]

AS HE RAISED HIS FIST BEFORE HE SPOKE — Scuffle was certainly one way to described the hardships that Windclan had gone through as a result of Sootstar and her loyalists, an oversimplification that would cause the tunneler's lip to curl if not for the one delivering it. Celandine knew better than most outside of Windclan all that they had gone through, and her generalization seemed to be born merely out of youth, rather than malice. That was enough to keep Rattleheart's hackles from raising as she approached, pale gaze squinting in the direction of the pair as she tried to put names to faces. She was grateful for the fact that the young golden feline had introduced them both, as she had never been the greatest at remembering names outside of Windclan. It was frankly a miracle sometimes that she remembered all of the leaders of the other groups, more out of a desire to keep herself from embarrassment than anything else.

Though she was not the first to arrive, Sunstar thankfully brought up the very same thoughts that immediately jumped to mind as she looked towards both Celandine and Grave, head tilting over to one side as she contemplated them. The tunneler would never begrudge them wanting to join - she and Scorchstreak had once been in the same position, albeit as a pair of unknown loners rather than barn cats. However, their motives for wanting to do so did swirl around curiously in her mind. Especially with someone as young as Celandine, a cat who could be seeking out clan life just for the sake of a thrill, or for adventure. Rattleheart's stomach twisted at the idea, visions of ruthless violence flashing across her frozen gaze before she banished them away. "Being a warrior won't be easy, you know. You'll be dedicating your lives to Windclan, no matter what may come. No matter what threats may arise. You might even be forced into fighting cats just like the ones we once had to flee from..." Her claws dug down into the ground, shoulders tense as she thought of the loyalists still lingering beyond their borders. No doubt waiting for a chance to recover and strike once more.

Grave was of particular interest, considering the neutral expression on the tom's face as he stood alongside Celandine. Did he understand the commitment he was making, or had he simply been dragged along for the ride? Rattleheart was unsure, but she did at least allow a grin to grace her muzzle as she stood alongside Sunstar. "Neither I nor Sunstar want to scare you off from joining, I'm sure of that. It's just... a want to make sure you know what you're getting into. Things will be very different from barn life." In many ways, not the least of which the territory that they would be forced to adapt to. No longer would they have the easy pickings of barn mice scampering around in the hay, instead being forced to hunt down prey over the open moors. Although they both piqued his curiosity, wondering if either might be suited for the tunnels instead. Grave seemed fairly tall, but Celandine... well. It would depend on whether they indeed ended up joining at all.

THE RIGHTEOUS HAND OF GOD 𓆩♡𓆪 THE DEVIL THAT YOU FORGOT

• 

• 
  ❥ longhaired black and white tom with pale green eyes
  ❥ 49 moons old; ages the 1st every month
  ❥ afab; uses he/she/they pronouns
  ❥ homosexual homoromantic; mated to venomstrike
  ❥ sibling to scorchstreak, lizardbounce, and rabbitclaw
  ❥ currently mentoring downypaw
  ❥ somewhat difficult to befriend; wary but kind
  ❥ "speech", thoughts, attacking
  ❥ peaceful powerplay allowed
  ❥ all opinions are ic

​

 

[Firefang]

Firefang hated outsiders. Sure in time she'd eventually grown used to the rogues (one of which now led them….) joining when she was younger but it was much harder now for her to look at any newcomer with anything better then mild disdain. Uber claws unsheathe and she rushes towards an unfamiliar scent, itching to rush into the heat of battle and lay into some unfortunate rogue but she's not the first to find them. She almost falls on her face to slow herself down, claws catching on the dirt and grass uncomfortably. She pants heavily, eyes glowering towards the two strangers. Strangers Sunstar and Rattleheart were keen to treat kindly and let in - just like that.

Whatever recognition she may have of them is for naught, she doesn't care to remember the scents or faces of cats not worth even being rivals. They smell of hay meaning they were nothing more than fat lazy barn cats. But still there's something there - she may not grasp rememberence of individuals but she holds a dislike that her clan stooped to accepting their help against…. Her and the other loyalist.

She'd been able to hold her tongue for far too long but that breaks as she snaps towards Sunstar. It was bound to happen. "Seriously?! You're lettin' two horse-dung smellin' barn cats into our clan?" she questions voice bellowing. Her tail lashes, she casts a glance towards Rattleheart whose warnings were much more kind than any filth she could spit.

"and if they're not meant for this life then they're dead weight and I'm not huntin' for dead weights"

---

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• text

• "speech"

• 

  Firefang ✩ She/Her, Warrior of Windclan, 22 moons
  ⭃ Black tabby she-cat with amber eyes. former-loyalist of Sootstar, Moorunner.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Kedamono ↛ @legmeatt on discord, feel free to dm for plots.​

​

 

[CELANDINEPAW]

Quiet presence of her dear friend Grave always comforted Celandine. She would hardly call his accompaniment 'supervision,' though that was often what the scarred tom thought of it. Tall shadow towered over her, demure as though a greying storm quelled by prior rage and ruin. Dark amber eyes of mistral sunset smoldered like dimmed coals, befitting more of what came before the night than what arrived after. Still, his presence was enough to make Celandine feel safe so far away from the barn, especially away from her family. Her companion was far from mousy and meek - to her day-kissed sunshine, he proved the night-splattered moon. Unlikely coupling, though most things in life were, chaotic and erratic as very nature was. It took a myriad colors to produce a masterpiece of a painting.

Like a brush of windswept morning, Sunstar now came along with his patrol. Toothy smile, with her purest joy unbound, marked still-downy countenance. Rounded head nodded at the leader's question of whether Grave was with her - almost as though he asked if darkness held fast to moonlight. "Hi! Sun... something, was it? I'm sorry, there were so many of you..." Well, if she hadn't messed up her first impressions before, she certainly did now. Ears folded in embarrassment, though the unbridled happiness of the adolescent molly had not been truly scrubbed from her face. Merriment was something that seemed constant to she of sunshine fur, like the delight of newleaf had been woven directly into spotted markings. It took more than the veil of stormbound cloud to hide away the sun forever. The tone of the king of the moors was sprightly, bright as the morning glories that flitted along the sedges and sawgrasses. And for that, she was grateful for his unending grace. It much befitted he who reigned in laurels of peace and crown of woven, unthorned branch. "Um, do I have to live on the moors forever? Not that I have a problem with sleeping on the dirt. But, my folks would be so sad if I didn't come by and say hi!" She tilted her head quizzically.

Wheat-tinged green gaze fluttered on Rattleheart next, as round as a barn owl's nocturne profile. The wood-colored cat who followed Sunstar was a little less confident, though he still spoke with the merit and the mark of a true warrior of the winds. Hesitation clung to his words, as though his life and hers were much more different than she could ever conceive of. That didn't stop Celandine, of course. "I'm sure it's not that different from barn life. I know how to hunt my own mice, y'know!" Although stubborn and childish mind would never admit it now, Rattleheart was right - her image of clan life was rather picaresque and frankly fictional. She had seen the fringes of battle, of scarlet sanguine and festering wound and the overwhelmingly sickly smell that dogged fighters. Still, she was much too young and far too sheltered to ever conceptualize how tragedy struck even the fortunate of the wild. She crouched down in a facsimile of a hunter's stance, and then immediately stood back up as if to say 'see, I'm not bluffing!' Though, a shiver, quiet and quivering as it was, wracked at her heart at the thought of fighting. She didn't know how to, but surely it couldn't be much harder than hunting. "Well, I might not know how to fight, but I'm a fast learner! I learned how to hunt my first mouse when I was just five moons."

At Firefang's rude remarks, Celandine could hardly hide her distaste. Emotions swam radiant and apparent on her body, as though the fire that dwelled within her heart of hearts burned between flaxen fur and wispy whiskers. If there was one thing her parents ever told her to do with her life, it would be to never take disrespect on her name. "I do not smell like horse dung! I clean myself very often!" The golden rosetted tabby snorted, as the fanned flames of youth refused to die down at even the slightest opposition. Despite standing much below the soot-stained molly, her gaze smoldered as she faced the other. She hardly recognized Firefang from Windclan's stint at the barn - how did she know that Firefang hadn't fought on their side? "I'm not dead weight, either! I fended for your kind when you needed help. Without me and my kin, you wouldn't have won your war." It was an exaggeration, but true nevertheless.​

 

[SOOTSPOT]

There were some regrets for defecting as late as he did, and the conflict he felt over his legacy would've been much easier to hide had he been among the first few to turn on his family, but at least he had never lowered himself to the level of a barncat. He could not imagine how gullible such creatures were to have housed WindClan so readily and, now that Sunstar had invited them to the moorlands to stay, he could not imagine how long it would take to train them to be halfway presentable to the rest of the clans. An easy smile appeared on his maw as he bound closer, head held as high as any member of their leader's council. Soil still clung to his lower body along with the smell of the earth; he'd been listening in for a while, though to a taller creature it may have seemed like he appeared out of nowhere, Sootspot was a small enough tom to have just as easily slipped unnoticed amidst the slew of meadow flowers. Just in time to hear protests to Sunstar, the contrarian wrinkled his nose, doing his best not to grimace at the heavy feeling within each nostril. Unlike Firefang, the complexities of the new WindClanner, though bitter, were an easier pill to swallow without making a face - he was just grateful she was around to make himself look better.

Looking the strangers up and down, his eyes eventually settled on the more talkative of the two, an irritating child... a very irritating child. The sharpness of his gaze softened to something almost foxlike in its friendliness. "Your kind?" He tilted his head innocuously, innocent blinking masking vitriol for the way Celandine spoke of WindClan. Real WindClanners were not the 'kind' to sleep in twoleg-made dens and hunt fat mice as if that made them a warrior. "What do you mean by that?" He knew she meant WindClanners, but the phrase was just alienating enough for Sootspot to jump upon it like a shark smelling blood in the water, if not to cause the stranger to be sent away, then to make her time in WindClan harder - he didn't like how many rogues and loners changed the status quo, how easy it was for one's identity to slip away when faced with outsiders. "We are all cats, are we not?" An angled head fell to the opposite angle as if seriously contemplating Celandine's meaning.




​

 

[SUNNVAR]

His voice comes booming, bristling: "Enough!" In the small space of time it takes for him to whirl and face Firefang, his stance has widened and the thick fur along his nape and shoulders rising. The paw that remains lifted is tense, with claws out, but he sets it to the ground in a quick pace towards the younger warrior. "These two have shown more loyalty to our clan than you had for many moons. I will not see them disrespected." She was young. She had been raised alongside Sootstar's ideals. She had never had a foundation to lean back on outside of her leadership. None of these reminders are enough to cool the heat before it spills off of him. "You will do as you are told. As a warrior of this clan, your duty is to those around you. And to my decisions." How long ago had he worried his tongue over leadership? It could not have been more than a moon ago that he hesitated to even call himself such.

He has cooled only enough for his bite of, "Sootspot," to be more warning than chastisement. He spares a glance towards Rattleheart. A brief moment of commiseration: the two of them stuck upon this border with the defectors of all cats. The ones who had chosen their fate just nearly too late.

"Should you join our clan, Celandine, there will be no more discussion of your kind. The only cats within this clan are our clan. And you will not be outside of this." The warning is smooth now, yet certain. She may be young but his words lack definitive kindness. Now is not the time to soften his demands. Should she make this decision, it must come fully informed. "These arguments will be between your clanmates. Whatever they may say to you, you will provide for them, protect them. You will see your kin upon the borders, but your home will be here. In WindClan. We will not follow SkyClan's example." An ear flicks with disdain where the kittypet clan cannot see him. "Our warriors do not go home as night falls." His gaze flickers to Grave in a stronger demand. He is old enough to know what he signs up for. The severity of what is asked.

⋆°•☁︎ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃  ╱╱ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝗕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝗕𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 〚 02.11.2024 〛 𖤓

• OOC. —
• 

  SUNSTAR. LEADER OF WINDCLAN. ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆
  ——– HE – HIM – HIS ╱╱ 48+ MOONS OLD, ADULT.

  NPC x NPC, MOUNTAIN CATS. MATE TO WOLFSONG; FATHER TO BEARPAW, SINGEDPAW, RIVEPAW, SUNLITPAW AND FEATHERPAW. MENTORING RIVEPAW.
  
  TH ╱╱ A LARGE, FRESHLY SCARRED CHOCOLATE AND WHITE ROSETTE TABBY TOM WITH SEAGLASS BLUE EYES

• "speech"

​

 

[Periwinklebreeze.]

OH, WHAT IT MEANS TO BE SOMEONE ━
THAT EVERYBODY HAS TO TALK TO━​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

periwinklebreeze ❀ 20 moons ❀ demi-boy ❀ windclan lead warrior ​

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

In the midst of things, the boy stays quiet - he is tired, nothing new of course, but it doesn't lend itself to providing a sunny disposition. He has no energy to snap at firefang - only gives a half-hearted glare - and no will to confront sootspot either. No, instead he only watches - wide-eyed and curious as he takes in the two familiar face. He'd not actually socialized that much - had spent far more time wandering the loner lands under guise of 'patrolling' than making new friends. No, he'd found that not in a barn cat, but a loner - clumsy as he might be. Still... if his eyes linger a bit to long on grave, can anyone blame him? It's been a long time since he's been able to focus on anything anyone - other than gravelsnap, but the lanky black feline is intriguing. Perhaps his mind is wandering to vulturemask again, or perhaps he's just curious. Whatever it is, he's quick to look away once more, head turned to sunstar as he speaks.

━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

━H E━H AD━N O━O N E━T H A T━H E━C O U L D━T A L K━T O━

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[slateheart]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ Curiosity gleamed in Slateheart's eyes as he approached the brief scuffle. Firefang and Sootspot were, of course, at the heart of it - preaching their ideals and speaking of belonging. Slateheart would think that Firefang is not meant for this life, either - given how slowly she seems to be acclimating to WindClan without Sootstar. But, he would hold his tongue on that for now - rather than cause an even larger quarrel than needs be.

Instead, he keeps his gaze on the two cats that he recognizes from the barn. "I, for one, would be pleased to welcome helpful paws." He greets the two with a kind smile. They had welcomed barn cats home before, and he would not oppose to doing so again. To repay them for all their kindness in lending their home and aid. "Couldn't hurt to have more paws on deck, anyhow. With all our soon-to-be-apprentices." As long as they could hunt, as they said they could, he wouldn't view them as mere mouths to feed.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── I SEND HIM A SMILE ⋅❁⋅ HE TELLS ME LOOK DOWN ──┐‎

• 

• SLATEHEART ✩ he/him, moor-runner of windclan, 19 moons.
  ⭃ a short-furred black tom with low white markings and green eyes.
  ⭃ son of LYNXTOOTH xx ADELAIDE // brother to GRAVELSNAP, ASHPAW
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by ixora ↛ @.ixora on discord, feel free to dm for plots.

​

 

[Firefang]

You wouldn't have won the war disgust wracks her body, a self pitying kind that she'd tear out with her claws if she could. They lost, she lost she was not on the winning side just a last second turncoat, a coward parading herself once as one of Sootstar's dogs who was all to eager to put on a muzzle rather then face the darkness that awaited her at the end of her rope. Her teeth clench and she wants to yowl to curse the barn cat for what she and her kin did, for helping to damn Sootstar for helping to put an end to a war Firefang never ended. This she-cat is young much more so then her, she's naïve and while she has the capacity to learn all she wants to see is what she is not who she can be. They had enough apprentices to teach, they didn't need more with their loyalties split between two worlds. She didn't want more reminders padding around the camp to remind her how her entire world had changed. Her mouth opens like a dragon ready to spit fire but all that comes out is smoke as it's extinguished as Sunstar whips around towards her.

Her gaze meets his own and she doesn't care to hide her fury to hide her underlying hatred - her fear and desire to live had kept her from trying him kept her from seeing him as the traitor king he was on a throne covered in spilled blood. She doesn't hate everything about him and that disturbs her, because if she did her claws would unsheathe and she'd challenge him on the spot, or is it cowardice that makes her eventually pull her gaze away after a far too long moment. She away from him, about to retreat but she pauses and spits one last word over her shoulder "I was always loyal!'" her yowl rings with pain she can't cool, her voice sounds on the edge of breaking her emotions getting the better of her. Her insinuation is clear.

She is not the only one chastised but it's no matter for her, she leaves with haste running towards the horizon not in the direction of camp but elsewhere in the territory. She needs to clear her head need to feel the burning in her lungs to ignore every wretched thought in her head.

---

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎┌── ooc ⋆⋅☾⋅⋆ info ──┐‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• // Out!

• "speech"

• 

  Firefang ✩ She/Her, Warrior of Windclan, 22 moons
  ⭃ Black tabby she-cat with amber eyes. former-loyalist of Sootstar, Moorunner.
  ⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
  ⭃ penned by Kedamono ↛ @legmeatt on discord, feel free to dm for plots.​

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[CELANDINEPAW]

An almost-vulpine gaze caught upon the flossy strands of Celandine's pelage, indirect in its taunting, as though it were a presumptuous vulture flittering just above its kill. Fern-green reflections turned towards the golden-coated cat, flitting up and down like he scanned for something; what that something was, she could not read from Sootspot's face. "Ah! I'm sorry. I, uh, didn't mean it like that. You're right." Quick to jump to apology (as was the courteous thing for the barncat to do), she hid away whatever backbone she had at the mere chance that she would've accidentally angered or offended the wildcats. Her tongue lashed in fire, but even that fire knew to bay itself when necessary. Besides, she hardly wanted to make a bad impression on the clan of which she wanted to join. Sootspot's tone drawled, not entirely bathed in cynicism but rather a jaded sort of falsified innocence. Sardonic and slow was the man's inflection, of which made Celandine uneasy or at the very least uncertain - in the barn, there was little room for sarcasm and passive aggressiveness. The wilds seemed much more alien than she thought.

Indicative of his status as the king of the moors, Sunstar's thunderous voice proved enough to snap Celandine out of her argument with the cinder-stained Firefang. Even she, who did not fall under his jurisdiction just yet, found herself flinching at the suddenness of such emotion. At first, the Windclan leader chastised his own young warrior, to which Celandine smugly grinned at both of the felines that dared wind from their ruler's word. She couldn't help but laugh at their comeuppance, for the best stories were told at the expense of the detractor. Thus always to tyrants, as Comfrey always said. Mettle that had painted itself as clear as day on her face proved quick to fade into wheatgrass-hued countenance as Sunstar turned his stern tone towards her now. "Okay!" She nodded obediently (though her head bobbed more akin to a flower swept into disarrayed waters, exaggerated if anything). "It's a good thing I told my folks exactly where I'd be for the rest of my life, then." A blatant lie, though she was far too mortified to tell the Windclanners that she just needed to run back to the Horseplace for just a moment.

Two more cats arrived now, and the rosetted tabby beamed at both who bore the distinctive ribbons of moor-scent. Whiskers twitched as the scent of wildflower and wit danced along her wisps and curls. She did not hate it, and proved merely unaccustomed to it. It was much different than the homely, earthly scent of the Horseplace. The moors had an airier smell, if such a thing was possible. Faintest hints of rain lined it, likened to the petrichor that dogged the barn's wood-body after a long storm. The first newcomer did not speak to her, with owlish and wide eyes like the moon staring long at the world, which quite reminded her of Grave. Maybe they could be friends, a quick glance settled on the pitch-hued tom before returning to the Windclan patrol. The second cat spoke to her in mellow inflection, of which Celandine felt gratefulness sink into prior anxieties, as though running water seeping into concrete and soapstone. "Of course! I'm pretty good at helping. Especially with the apprentices, I think." She nodded, for she was barely apprentice-aged herself. She still didn't understand what the word 'apprentice' meant; she caught upon the word when the wildcats stayed at the barn, and surmised it to mean any cat that had not fully grown yet.

I was always loyal! Wheat-tinged fur bristled at the back of her neck. Fury rolled from Firefang like roiling waves of the wine-dark ocean, and Celandine could feel it spray against her very coat. Arguments were few and far in between between her gaggle of cats at the barn, and any argument that was had was often settled by stern words and careful compromise. The felines beyond the fence seemed much more volatile, as though crafted of charcoal claw and flint fang. The warrior stomped away, and to the golden-furred she-cat, it seemed to have been spurred out of nothing but the chaos of the other's own creation. Did I do something wrong...? Firefang left before Celandine could apologize, so she put it in her mind to do so later. Perhaps it was a greater grace that she knew naught of the terrible turmoil that Windclan had once been through, and that she had arrived shortly in the aftermath of the war. "... If you'd like, I can come back to your barn with you! My heart's pretty much set on the open fields, so don't worry about me! I totally won't chicken out!" Another grin, fraught in sunshine's folly, filled her face.​